


Nothing Like A Lady

by Frau_Eva



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, And general UNRESOLVED EROTIC TENSION because nobody does that better than Regency England, Because that's my BRAND(TM) and I have to uphold that shit, Because the real life politics of empire fit better with Star Wars at times, Did you ever want Star Wars specific politics translated into real life politics of the Regency era?, F/M, I AM STILL UPSET ABOUT THE CORN LAWS OKAY, I also promise sensual ballroom dancing, I'm an American and thus am naturally dumb as shit about the entire continent I'm sorry, I'm sorry if my Scottish knowledge is shit, Leia is Queen Mum and is infinitely better than Queen Victoria, Like the WOOOOOOOOOORST, Luke is the worst chaperone, No specific character death but historical era-appropriate FUCKED SHIT is discussed heavily, No? Just me? FINE, Okay fine the politics veer more towards Victorian than Regency at times, She is meddling in everyone's business and generally a delight, THAT FUCKING HANDHOLDING THO, Will eventually have smut if I can keep my shit together, don't kinkshame me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frau_Eva/pseuds/Frau_Eva
Summary: After the unexpected death of several heirs along the line of Jakku, Lady Rey is found by solicitors in the abandoned country seat--parents having long either died or fled to the colonies. Society says she's a real-life fairy tale. Rey doesn't feel that way at all.Benjamin Organa is the next in line for the throne, and the title wears heavily on his shoulders. His life is nothing but sycophants and stifling duty. His only brief happiness is in resisting everything that was expected of him and trying to forge his own path to power. He didn't think he cared about anything else.One ball will change all that.





	1. Chapter 1

Lucas Skywalker, second prince of Tatooine, reluctantly joined Her Majesty in the parlor. Unfortunately, when his sister visited, she always wanted something.

He groaned as he set himself down on the settee. "So," he began, "what do you want?"

  
"Why do you think that?" Leia asked, batting her lashes with false innocence. "Can I not visit my brother now and then? If all these Lords insist on me being a pretty figurehead, I might as well faff about the countryside and do as I please." She rolled her eyes and took a sip of tea. "It's all well and good for me to help morale and give a speech or two during the Napoleonic wars, but now I'm apparently in my dotage and should leave matters to Parliament. Do you know what that vile man said the other day?"  
"I have long learned to ignore the opinion of Prime Minister Snoke," Luke said, waving away her concerns. "But that isn't why you're here. Out with it."

  
It's just..." The cup clinked as she returned the cup to its saucer. "Have you seen the papers lately?"

"You know I have not."

  
"It would not be so very terrible to return to London now and then, you know. You could waste away in this country estate, not even a servant in sight. What would happen if you injured yourself? No one would know for weeks, months perhaps." She took another sip of her tea, considering something. "They found a girl recently, just like that," she lamented, "Abandoned on an estate in the furthest reaches of Scotland. I believe you taught her father at Eton--a Lord Jakku?"

  
Luke tutted in exasperation. "I remember little. He wasn't there for long, and it is my understanding he continued his reprehensible behavior after his expulsion. His older brother was at least marginally more sensible."

  
"That appears to be the case--oh, it is a harrowing tale," she said, hand placed to her breast. "If the second son has any sense he'd have taken a military appointment for some hope of an income, but he married a Scottish Lady for her pittance of a dowry and drank it all away. She died in childbirth, only a few years after producing the one issue of the line. No one is quite sure exactly when he left after that--for the Americas, most likely, since no one's seen or heard from him since. If the elder brother had not fallen off his horse and died, no one would have searched the girl out. Her conditions were...appalling."

  
"Is this what this is about? A terrifying tale to make me return to society? More hand-wringing over my supposed loneliness? I can assure you, dear sister, I am quite content."

  
Leia shifted uncomfortably. "It's only...she is all alone, and practically a babe in the woods. You know how society can be, Luke. It may be an impoverished house, but the unscrupulous could still squeeze blood from that stone. I....I know it's been a long time since you taught young men, but you were good at it..."

  
Luke's eyes widened as awareness dawned, brows furrowing."Oh, this is a new height of meddling, even for you!" He huffed and began to rouse from the settee. "What you need is a governess, Leia, not a doctor of philosophy, let alone one long retired. Now if you'll excuse me--"

  
She put her hand to her brother's arm. "I know, Luke." Their eyes met. "I know what I'm asking you." She shook her head. "You're the only one I can trust to do this."

  
He stammered, bewildered. But his tone still softened. "The idea of me chaperoning a girl, teaching this feral child how to make her way in society...it's ludicrous."

  
"I'm not asking you to teach her anything other than what you know. The Lord knows she will likely still struggle with that." Her eyes crinkled. "Lend your name and influence to her debute. Take her to balls. Protect her from bounders and rakes. Perhaps remind her to speak clearly now and then. That's all I'm asking."

  
"Countless ladies would trip over themselves to do this for you, Leia."

  
"How many of them can I trust not to bend this girl towards a marriage with their awful sons and nephews?" She shook her head. "You have no interest in this, fair or foul. That is why you're the only one who will do." She sighed. "It is not as if I could do it either. Could you imagine, the Queen herself, accompanying a debutante to balls and tutting over appropriate suitors? It's already said I'm eccentric--if I start doing that, well, they may very well put me in Bedlam."

 

* * *

 

Rey fiddled with her dress. She had never worn anything so fine, except that her mother's dresses had probably been quite lovely once upon a time. That had been all she had to wear when the solicitors found her.

  
But now another person--a servant, she had servants now apparently--had sculpted her hair with bandoline and smoothed her face over with cold cream and powder. Everything itched.

"Ow!" She had been scratching her face when a small switch shot out and hit her wrists. "Whit wis that fur?"

  
"Ladies don't scratch themselves," Luke said from across the carriage. "Also, your elocution, yet again."

  
Rey scowled, but took a deep breath and began a new. "I do wonder if--Ow! Urr ye serious? Whit's it noo?"

  
"Ladies do not make improper expressions."

"Then juist whit's a lass allowed tae dae then?"

  
"From what I have observed at balls? Smile, titter, and act as if there is nothing in their head."

  
"Rey crossed her arms. "That's well shan."

  
"Indeed." He returned the switch to his lap. "Before I had to accompany you, I had thought myself rid of them forever."

  
There was a moment of silence while Rey gathered herself. "I still do not understand why is it so important I do all this. If I am to be the Countess of Jakku, then why do any of this? Do I not have the funds for everything I need?"  
"Perhaps with how you lived before," Luke answered, eyes turning to a carriage window partially obscured with rain. "However, it is not so simple. You lived only for yourself before. As the Countess, you have lands, tenants, responsibilities. Sadly, the money entailed will not provide enough to do as your duty demands."

  
"If...if I am to have land, then I must return. I do not wish to be an absent landlord."

  
The carriage rumbled to a halt. "It is all a very complicated subject for which you have been ill prepared. Come, Rey." The coachmen opened the door and Luke took his charge in hand. "Let us make polite conversation and avoid any waltzing. Remember, your dance card is regrettably always full."

  
She bit her lip. She could hunt down rabbits, chop firewood, and dig potatoes from the ground with her bare hands, but their limited waltzing sessions proved she danced like a newborn colt. "Surely it isn't proper to hit ladies at a party?"  
"No, you're quite safe now. It's improper to call attention to another's mistakes in front of others."

  
Rey smiled. "Then perhaps that alone will prove this to be a welcome distraction."

* * *

 

"I'm still not quite clear why the Prime Minister insisted you be here as well," Hux stated, sizing up Benjamin Organa for the millionth time. "We all know I am the far more....sociable between the two of us. Nothing can be gained from you attempting to ingratiate yourself."

  
Ben, for once, was not in the mood to rise to Hux's bait. He truly never would describe himself as sociable. As seriously as he took his seat in Parliament, he was always glad to return to his estate as soon as the latest session ended. Being here was exhausting enough. Yet because Snoke willed it, he would grit his teeth, parrot social niceties with the latest Lord whose vote the Tories wanted for their latest bill, and return home as soon as he was able.

  
"Not to mention your...reputation for certain diversions has always made you too much of a liability, I'd say."

  
Ben's eyes hardened immediately. "Oh?" Every bit of suppressed hatred he could muster was in that single syllable. "You seemed less troubled by it the last we discussed it." The exact last time they had discussed it was late at a club--there for much the same reasons as now--when Ben had hit Hux hard enough to crack his jaw.

  
Hux swallowed, eyes narrowing further, before stepping away to talk to a gentlemen who had wandered into their orbit. They may have been members of the same party, voted uniformly on the same issues, but perhaps it was fighting for the same accolades and place of power that had sharpened their mutual loathing to a well-honed point. Armitage Hux would end the night chuckling at a terrible joke of some joweled party patriarch and generally winning his place with smiles and insincere compliments, instead of the debate and drudgery of policy on the floor.

  
Ben was knocked from wallowing in his scorn by hearing something unexpected. For anything unpredictable to happen to him here was rare--he had been to more genteel amusements than most as young men, being the prince of the realm. It was likely the source of his animosity for such events. Even new faces usually had parts that were all too recognizable and expected--a young upstart with the telltale underbite from the House of Coruscant, a debutante with the weak chin of the House of Hoth.  
"Presenting Lady Jakku of Scotland and His Royal Highness, the second prince of Tatooine."

  
He struggled to even remember the last time he'd heard of that family, much less on the arm of his insufferable uncle. Infact, everything about this new arrival was immediately incongruous. Every daughter of the gentry had skin that looked like it had never seen the sun, but hers was sun-kissed and with a constellation of freckles that would send any lady to their parasols and powder. A debutante's typical shyness didn't quite touch the wonder in her eyes, the shakiness of her heels, and the hesitant bite of her lip. The rain outside had made her dress cling to her hips and catch in her curls like dew, but she didn't even try to brush it away.

  
He looked away once he realized he was staring. Who was she, this Lady Jakku? Did it matter? He was here for a reason. A momentary distraction would make the night pass faster, but he was not here for any sort of company. Besides, as Hux had mentioned, his reputation had thankfully long cooled the fervor of matchmaking mothers trying to throw their daughters in his path. He would wait until after dinner when gentlemen retired to the smoking room, do his duty to his party, and leave.

* * *

 

Rey was finding it easy to act as if nothing were in her head--everyone was a stranger with exceedingly specific titles she would never remember, yet everyone knew each other. People talked about experiences unfamiliar to her--nights at the theater, books she could have never hoped to afford, the affairs of people she had never met. She smiled, and when it seemed appropriate, tittered. She was making her way around the ballroom bobbing her head like a chicken.

  
"Oh, indeed, that sounds quite...agreeable?" she would add hopefully. When a topic she finally understood--the weather, of all things--she found herself growing far too animated about rain, to her later embarrassment.

  
"I dare say, you are doing quite well," Luke commented lowly. "The Duke of Naboo even called you a 'delight.' Perhaps this evening will pass without an unfortunate incident after all."

  
"I am coming to realize what peculiar skill you have in motivating your students," Rey responded, her smile all chagrin.

  
"Oh, I must do the honor of introducing you. I would be remiss not to!" said the Duke of Naboo, gathering their attention back towards him. She sensed Luke's trepidation before she saw the man himself.

  
"May I present His Royal Highness, Prince Organa, Duke of Chandrila." The movement in the room slowed. Everyone else she had met before had smiled--some sincere and others a small dismissive thing that never reached their eyes, but not him. Before her stood a man of imposing height and serious expression, dressed in unrelenting black. Long dark locks framed his large features, but it was his eyes that drew her attention more than anything else--two shadowy glooms that seemed to bore straight through her. She heard herself being described in terms that still felt foreign:"This is Lady Jakku, who you may have heard came upon the title only recently. A veritable fairy tale."

  
It took a moment before she remembered her training, took up her skirts, and offered a curtsy. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." She rose to see him mirroring her in a bow that barely diminished his height. He continued to stare, wordlessly. Rey looked away, feeling awkward.

  
The Duke of Naboo grinned with entirely too much self-satisfaction. "You are quite lucky to have been introduced, what with him being a figure of such importance who so rarely attends functions like this." Prince Organa's expression tightened, seeming uncomfortable with such unctuous flattery. "Why, if not for his dedicated appeals, Parliament surely would have repealed the Corn Laws last year."

  
The Corn Laws. Rey knew she was pretending to be someone she wasn't, but those words immediately knocked her awareness back into a dirty girl with an empty belly.

  
There had been a famine last year, one of many. The cash crops had been shipped off to English landlords to pay rent, as always--one of them being an uncle she had never met, now newly dead. There had been a lack of rain this year, so even her neighbors paying the rent had been difficult. There was always some new calamity that had them living on a knife's edge--a blight, a cold spring, an epidemic. Everyone had to make do with what remained after rats and ill winds and the English took their share.  
In the few good years, large-hearted housewives might have left her a basket of scraps on the steps of her empty, decrepit manor. Too many church bells tolled this year for that, too many small coffins buried under the earth in the church yard. She always needed to hunt with the bow the widow had given her, but when food prices rose and rose and rose, her neighbors picked the forests clean. When she had been young, she could sell the manor's silverware for money for food, but one year she had come back to find everything of value stripped and the furniture broken into kindling. She had cried that night until her chest hurt and all the strength left her.

  
In bad years, she got dirty looks and men called her the Landlord's Daughter. The children she played with in good years shunned her. But they all had little need for play then anyway--she was too busy trying to conserve her strength, or ekeing out a few small potatoes or turnips from the gardens that once held flowers. Rey could count the ribs of wolves walking in the woods. Drunken men held up newspapers, railed about government officials burning smuggled crops, screaming until they broke into weeping.

  
Here and now, there was laughter and pretty music in her ears. None of these people had tried to make a tattie scone out of peels and rotten pulp. None of them had eaten voles or squirrels or mice, or filled their belly with dirt when they didn't even have that. None of them had lost anyone to hunger. Here, they voted to protect the price of native grain and never thought about those who couldn't afford it.

  
Distantly, Luke must have realized something was happening to her: "We should not be discussing politics here. Come, I think Lady Jakku may need a bit of fresh air on the balcony." But it was too late. Rey could feel the blood rising to her skin, uncontrollable. How dare these people judge her for tiny missteps? How dare they ask her to yield and accommodate when they had surely never done that for anyone else?

  
"The Corn Laws," she spit. She looked him in the eye again, and she could tell he was taken aback just by her expression alone. "How dare ye vote for the Corn Laws. Folk are starvin', Sir." Her arms shook by her sides.

  
"Ah, how horrendous of me to bring politics into such a lovely night," The Duke of Naboo attempted, trying to draw the conversation back towards him and away from the obvious danger. "And what a perfect night it is, isn't it? Not a cloud to be seen. I daresay, His Royal Highness had an excellent idea about the balcony."

  
She was far too gone. "Folk died, Sir. Ah nearly died meself." She had senselessly survived when others should have lived--children, Widow Stewart, more than she could name.

  
Around her she heard a giggle and a, "What is she saying? You can barely understand her."

  
"I had heard she was raised without society, but I never thought it would be nearly this atrocious."

  
Hot tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't say whether it was from sadness, anger, or shame.

  
Prince Organa had done nothing but look at her with that lost expression before finally managing,"It...is a very complicated issue, but I am sorry for your ordeal. I would not expect everyone to understand."

  
"Whit, dae ye think only lords kin ken anythin'?" She stepped towards him, pointing a finger to his chest. "Thay ken that thay cannae afford fairn. Whit's mair important than that?" He stepped backwards and the hushed crowd moved to accommodate him. "Thay ken thair hunger. Thair ken thair deid bairns." Her voice rose to a crescendo and blood flooded to her cheeks."Bit ye 'n' yer mukkers in Parliament wouldn't ken nuthin' aboot that, would ye, YE FUCKIN' BAWBAG."

  
Dancers stopped their rotations across the floor. The musicians stuttered their pace and struggled to regain the rhythm. The Prince's mouth hung open. Eyes pointed towards them like planets rotating a sun. All sound and motion stopped to see the newly-minted Countess insult the second-in-line to the throne of England.

  
Until a bark of laughter broke the silence.

  
It came from the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, reviews and compliments are motivating and make me more likely to update and not be a flaky bitch. But expect me to update at least during my period when I become EXTRA THIRSTY and suddenly become way more Reylo obsessed. Motivation and updating is a little touchy because I SHOULD be finishing my book dagnabbit, and why did I just HAVE to write a story that actually requires me to DO RESEARCH because even if this is my history wheelhouse, I can't remember the forms of address? Or even what makes me the person to care about getting forms of address right on FANFIC where I just wrote someone was the DUKE OF NABOO, for fuck's sake why am I like this
> 
> Feel free to talk to me or @ me or whatever at JeneeLestrange on Tumblr, just be warned that since I cleared my cookies Tumblr won't let me get log in on my computer, so I'm only on the blasted phone app :( So if I ignore you, don't take it personal, the thing just sucks


	2. Chapter 2

There was a knock on the door of his study. Ben's nib scratched the page with irritation. "Yes?"

  
His butler entered, his usual stiff movements shifting with discomfort. "Your mother is here to see you, My Lord."

  
Ben growled and sliced a word into the parchment. "And?" He dipped the pen in the inkwell with enough intensity that it sloshed against the sides and threatened to spill. "I believe you were given orders as to that eventuality."

  
"Yes, My Lord, of course, it's just that--"

  
The Queen shoved the butler aside and made her way into the room. "Hello, dear," she said, skirts happily swishing across the aubusson rug. "I hope you have been well. Have you seen the papers? Ooh, is that new curtains?"

  
Ben glared at the butler, who immediately ducked out of the room. "What is it that you want?" he ground out.

  
"Why would you think I want anything?" Leia answered, feigning hurt. "Can a mother not visit her dear son? Why, I haven't seen you in an age."

  
"Exactly as I'd have it," he replied, finally turning away from his letters. Throwing both his mother and the Queen from his apartments would lose him what standing he had, though he had considered it often to himself as a possibility. "Now out with it. I need to get back to my work."

  
Leia sighed. The sound was plaintive. "It is just that a thought occurred to me, is all--one that may benefit you to consider. And I am your mother, so I do have your best interests at heart, dear. I would visit more often--without any motive at all, for the whim of it--if only you seemed the least bit pleased to see me..."

  
Ben simply looked at her, stone-faced.

  
Leia straightened her shoulders and seemed to draw on some inner reserve of strength. "The...incident last night won't do for either of you. Neither of you can risk losing much more social regard."

  
"It's interesting how people only seem to care about social regard once they reach an advanced age." Ben's stare was pointed. "The sins of youth often never factor into it."

"Dear, I have told you a million times, when you steer the ship of state through the attempts of a madman to conquer all of Europe, the public will be quite accommodating of you marrying any war hero you wish."

  
"He was a smuggler! Never stopped! It's only because you--"Ben cut himself off and threw his pen at the table in disgust. It was a useless fight, one fought too many times.

  
"That's what I'm trying to tell you, dear--social capital. Sometimes you have to accomplish what you want in a roundabout way. Say, in your case, a bill you'd want to pass or...the regard of an influential person..."

  
Ben scowled. Snoke's earlier chastisement rang through his ears. It wasn't even his fault that he'd been involved, and what was he supposed to do, just smile and exchange pleasantries with guests for the rest of the night as if nothing had happened? 'Everyone knows of your temperament--are you saying you can't even flatter some country debutante, yet you expect to move Heads of State?' Snoke had seethed. 'Allerton inquired after you, and what could I even say to him? You jeopardized everything.'  
It seemed like everything was his fault these days.

  
"And this incident, well, it doesn't help matters, but it can easily be smoothed over," Leia chirped.

  
"I distinctly remember you wanting to damage my political aspirations, not assist them." Ben narrowed his eyes. "And how exactly can something like that be 'smoothed over?' That girl called me a--and I quote--a 'bawbag' in the middle of a crowded ballroom. I can't exactly run around town and snatch it from the mouths of every gossip."

  
"No, but we can let people believe what they saw was a...misunderstanding, and give them something new to talk about. Let them think our family has taken her under our wing, that it just was a rowdy jest between friends that went a bit too far."

  
"A bit too far? A jest?" he asked incredulously. He grabbed the back of his chair with white-knuckle intensity. "I must say, mother, you have had some terrible schemes in your time, but this! This is truly the worst."

  
She drew closer to her son. "What else could they conclude, seeing you taking her out walking or paying her visits? Not only that, but you'd look so...composed, amiable...trustworthy to others. Would a cad defer so even to a lady who had treated him so unseemly?"

  
"If she had an enormous dowry, yes," he noted. "Cads have dealt with worse for that."

  
"Which she does not have, as surely you know. Really, the two of you have so little social regard, you have little choice but to cooperate with each other."

  
Ben put his face to his palm, dejected. He hated when his mother was right.

* * *

 

That was how, for perhaps the first time in his young life, Benjamin Organa sent a bouquet of snowdrops and red poppies to a Lady and arrived at her door during the Fashionable Hour. His valet had tried to conceal his excitement for the opportunity to finally dress him for something other than Parliament or an evening of pugilism and fencing at the club.

  
She was waiting in the parlor when the butler ushered him in. "Thank you the flowers," she said without emotion, hands clasped in her lap with an stilted serenity.

  
He noted that she didn't actually say she liked them. Ben was used to hostility from men--there were a thousand reasons for that. But debutantes and their mothers had treated him with such ridiculous obeisance for so long that he had come to distrust most contact with the fairer sex. This was a strange new development, but at least he seemed to have come upon this hatred honestly. "Were they not to your taste?"

  
"I do not find much use for things that I cannot wear or eat." Her words twisted into the same wound she had inflicted upon him last night. "So in a sense, yes, they are 'not to my taste,' no." She looked up at him, craning her neck, and seemed to actually take him in for the first time. "Do you wear anything besides black?"

  
Ben hated that this rankled him. "That is an impertinent question."

  
She squinted, genuinely confused. "Why?"

  
To his further distress, he found that he didn't actually know. "Never mind. Come. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can be done with this."

  
She followed him out of the parlor, they donned their hats and coats, and walked out into the street. Even in late morning, the cobblestones were obscured with mist. He took her hand to help her into the hansom cab--what should be a routine motion--and hated that he could feel the heat of her skin through the gloves. Perhaps he should have sought out some sort of female companionship sooner if he was reacting like this to such a simple act.

  
There was no sound for minutes but the clack of hooves against stones and the snap of a whip. She seemed content with the silence, looking away from him out into the busy street. This story would never hold if they were just seen sitting morosely side by side together. He hated participating in pleasantries to begin with, but beginning them was even worse. "I...had heard that you are new to society," he began, "Have you been to Hyde Park before?"

  
"Only once with His Royal Highness. It was most uneventful," she answered, her voice suddenly rising, "He did say there are sometimes protesters and suffragettes, so I am hoping to see something more exciting this time."

  
"....Ah." He had never heard anyone say such a thing, so he had no ready response. "I suppose that could be...amusing, seeing a crowd of people act outrageously. But you must be aware that such rowdiness can be dangerous for a Lady such as yourself."  
Rey huffed. "That's what everyone says about anything the least bit entertaining."

  
He cracked a smile in surprise despite himself. "Are you saying you did not enjoy last night's ball?"

  
Her glare made his mouth widen into a full smile. Rey made an exasperated sound. "It is..nice of them to invite me. I am sure it is quite a lot of work to put such a party together."

  
"That does not answer the question."

  
"Fine. No, I do not." She crossed her arms. "His Royal Highness says I shouldn't admit to it, but we've already made enemies of each other, so I don't see how you could think any less of me than you already do. I just don't know how to do anything and I don't know anyone and everything is too confusing. And everyone can surely tell its true anyway, so I don't even know why I'm pretending to be something I'm not."

  
She looked resolutely out into the street and said nothing more.

  
He felt suddenly defensive. "I never said you were my enemy." At the very least, she was entertaining--and the fact that she hated society events just as much as he did gave them more in common than most.

  
"You can be polite if you want, but just because I have not been 'in society,' whatever that means, it does not mean I've been dropped headfirst off the back of a wagon. Everyone seems to believe it to be so anyway."

  
"Lady Jakku, do not concern yourself overly so."

  
She looked at him with disbelief bordering on annoyance and he struggled to find a sensible explanation. Flinging her vulnerability in his face was something he'd never experienced before, something everyone he knew had been taught from the cradle to avoid, so he found himself acting uncharacteristically in response. He was lost in new territory."I know how...difficult it can be to take on the mantle of a title. It can feel impossible to measure up to. You have erred, but such is the fate of mankind." Lord only knew how he struggled to do credit to his title and position. He took a breath and gathered his thoughts. "I've been called worse by men in their cups--many, many times."

  
She gave him a sidelong glance like a wary animal taking a morsel from an outstretched hand. He had never met someone who could say so much with just her eyes. "I see," she answered. She unfurled her hands to sit them calmly in her lap. Slowly, they turned to silently regard the street again.

  
Ben sat in contemplation of himself. What was he doing? Just this morning, he'd considered her perhaps the most uncouth harridan he'd ever met. He knew himself well enough to know he commonly erred in a lack of patience, so why had he been so mollified?

  
It was that honest admission she'd given, surely. Ben saw many ladies fake sprained ankles and swoons right as he stood behind him, but no Lady would openly admit to weaknesses that would so destroy her marriageable options and standing. Her face was morose as she looked out onto the street. He couldn't help but feel how lonely she must be, surrounded by people who were so different from herself. It was something any gentleman should feel when seeing a lady in distress, surely.

  
She perked up when they heard shouting from streets away. "Are we nearly there? Is that Hyde Park?" Her hands gripped the arm rail."Do you think those are protesters?"

  
It surprised him to realize that he actually hoped they were, just so she'd keep that gleam in her eye. "Not if we are fortunate. I would not relish having to answer to my mother and uncle should you come to harm in my care."

  
She rolled her eyes at that, but grew more and more animated the closer they got to the park. "It is! It is! They're protesters!"

  
"Lady Jakku, this is really most--" Ben lost his train of thought as Rey rose herself up, puffed her chest out against the railing, and bounced with excitement.

  
"What are ye protesting?" she called, putting a hand to her mouth. The crowds knocked against each other and shifted like the sea. The response was garbled. "The vote for all mankind!" someone shouted back before an officer shoved him back.  
"For womenkind as well!" Rey shouted back with a smile. She raised her small fist in triumph.

  
Ben was frozen. Each excited bounce wiggled her derriere at exactly the right height from his position on the cab seat. He could feel the blood rushing to his ears.

  
From across the way, another hansom cab stopped to watch and he remembered what a precarious social position they were in. "Lady Jakku, please," he pleaded, grabbing her hand.

  
Rey turned, puzzled. For a moment, she was all wide sparkling eyes focused right on him, flushed cheeks and pursed lips.

  
"Someone...someone could see," he managed. "Sit down, please."

  
She obeyed, puzzlement still in her eyes. She was closer to him now, their thighs touching across the seat. Too late, he realized she had little choice not to--he was still holding her wrist. He lurched away as if scalded.

  
"I can't do that either?" she asked, disappointed. "What are you supposed to do in Hyde Park then?"

  
"Er...look at the trees?"All her simple questions made him feel like an idiot.

  
"Oh." She sunk into herself, dejected.

  
Ben cringed inwardly--remembering too acutely the weight of being a small boy who would be heir and there being a million things too uncouth to be considered. "You have only just begun to enter society, My Lady. I'm sure the situation will improve once you are able to remember familiar faces. Have you been to the theater yet?"

  
She turned back to him, a hopeful spark returning to her face. "No...not yet," she whispered.

  
"Perhaps that should be our next outing then? After all, we have to be seen together a few more times, and it seems like the best choice if it's a spectacle you're after." He wouldn't truly enjoy it--he had decided on a ride in an open carriage in Hyde Park specifically to avoid his detested uncle as chaperone--but the girl had never seen such a display before. If he had to take her on all these outings, some good might as well come out of it. And she needed a guide--that, at least, he knew he could do.

  
"I think I might like that," she admitted.

* * *

 

Rey was restless. She was used to roaming about acres of field in a day--checking her traps, washing in streams, shooting rabbits and squirrels, climbing trees, tending to her meager crops.

  
She had been about to walk about the garden for the fifth time today when Luke stopped her. "Are you doing that again?" he asked. "This restlessness won't do. Why don't you read a book? My library is extensive. Or...whatever it is that young ladies are supposed to do with their time. My sister was never one for needlepoint, but the supplies can be easily acquired, I'm sure."

  
Rey looked down at her feet. She had a governess for a time, so long ago she couldn't even remember her name or face, who had taught her the basics. She knew the alphabet and could read most prayers, but most actual literature was beyond her abilities. Only a few small books in the manor's library were read as a child before the ransacking that left her only with outdated law books. "I have tried," she admitted. There were too many words she didn't know, too many missing pieces, all piling up until the mountain of nonsense was too high to scale. "I am not very good at it, I'm afraid."

  
Luke gasped. "Do you mean to say you were never taught?" His expression of horror shamed her--she found her new chaperone buried in a book more often than not. Sometimes he walked into walls while reading.

  
"I know the fundamentals." She couldn't look him in the eye.

  
"Oh no no no." Luke paced about. "I won't have it said that a young person in my care was left so bereft." He took Rey by the hand.

  
"Where are we going?"

  
"We must begin your new lessons immediately. I must say, I'm used to teaching much more advanced matter, but surely teaching is teaching. I'll consult with a schoolmarm if I have to, but I refuse to have you so dispossessed."

  
"How long will that take?" Rey asked. Luke had a habit of losing track of time during his various lessons, or at least subjecting her to full hours on nothing but dry philosophical concepts or the history and workings of the British government. Rey was fairly certain these weren't typical subjects for a debutante, but was too inexperienced to say otherwise. He seemed almost as awkward in his new position as social guide and chaperone as she was in hers. "We're still going to the theater tonight, aren't we?"

  
Luke rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we're still going to the theater with my miserable nephew. Unless you'd like to bow out, of course." He raised a brow, waiting.

  
"Erm...." The theater sounded like the most enjoyable thing she'd been invited to in weeks--no studying, no worrying about how to address yet more strangers, little burdensome conversation. Just staring in the dark at a brightly-lit stage. Lord Organa may have awful political opinions, but he was being surprisingly agreeable since the ball--that could be easily dealt with in exchange for finally getting an entertaining evening. "I am actually looking forward to the occasion."

  
Luke eyed her suspiciously. "You haven't changed your opinion of him so quickly, have you?"

  
"What? No, of course not. Theater just sounds like one of the few diversions of 'society' I might actually enjoy. If I truly must save my reputation by way of Lord Organa, I might as well be entertained."

  
Luke's expression didn't change. "Good. Entangling yourself any further with Benjamin, I regret to say, would likely only result in further degradation of your reputation. The rumors about him would bring you nothing but scandal." Before she could ask what he meant, he startled and changed tack. "Ah, and speaking of him, I just remembered that there was a delivery for you that the butler left in the front parlor. Some more flowers to stink up my apartments, no doubt."

  
"Surely we can reconvene after I see them?"

  
He rolled his eyes and waved her off. "Find me in the study after you're done fussing over your gifts. I shall have you reading Voltaire by the end of the month."

  
Rey cringed and hurried away. The front parlor was for a decorative display of status, but Luke put little tack in such fripperies. He had filled the room with busts of Socrates, Aristotle, and Sir Isaac Newton but little else. Near the door was the bouquet with an attached card. She opened it to find his neat script: "Calendula, Lavender, and Nasturtium. I have been assured that these are infact edible.--His Royal Highness Prince Organa, Duke of Chandrila."

  
She smiled before she could stop herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben hated waiting for anything to happen. He threw himself into pugilism all day at the club, hoping he could sweat out the stress until his mind was a soothing blank.

  
It was just because he had avoided social events so much these past few years, surely. He couldn't remember the last time he went to the theater. As it was, he had to ask Snoke for use of his box for the evening. His mentor was all too happy to oblige--'I must say, I'm glad to see you taking matters into your own hands and not having to be pushed for once,' he had said. 'Perhaps you're finally learning the good that influence does for one's career. By all means, show that uncivilized chit a good time.'

  
Ben had beaten down his chagrin for the millionth time and taken what passed for a compliment when it came to his mentor. Even in the political faction that he had turned his back on his family for, he found no camaraderie or comfort. They played the part as a united front, but in actuality, every member was out for his own political future. As fervently as they championed each policy, they would change course at a moment's notice for any temporary gain. No one had faith in anything beyond their own ambition. It was all sophistry and guile.

  
But he couldn't make his mark as Leia Organa's son, the same policies, saying the same things, with only cajoling and words as their power. He had seen how far true passion and beliefs took you. The monarchy was toothless, ineffectual. He had grown up seeing her make speeches upon speeches for the tide to change by increments. He had heard Lords condescend when they thought he was out of hearing. His mother was nothing but a pretty figurehead to them, as they had been for generations upon generations, and as they meant to turn him into.

  
That ended with him, whether they liked it or not.

  
He attacked the leather punching bag with raw intensity, sweat flying. Long dark tendrils clung to his face. All this emotional upset was surely just him coming to terms with the fact that he'd have to do more to achieve what he wanted. Ben couldn't only attend Parliament and then immediately continue to hermit himself in his estate on Chandrila. He would have to do all the social niceties he had grown up with and he loathed it. He'd have to follow the Season, fake convalescence in Bath, dance with society's daughters, and generally live his life by rote.

  
He wouldn't be happy doing it, but he supposed he wasn't happy anyway. All his fencing and fighting and experiments were just distractions from his own morose thoughts. He had struggled with himself long enough to at least admit that. He might as well be unhappy doing something else.

  
He paused to simply breath. Sweat dripped a path down his bare chest. Ben would have to dress now if he wanted to be on time. He may have too many flaws to list, but he could at least say he was never late.

  
The other club members gave him a wide berth as he went about his business with showering and changing. They knew him only by his wild outbursts in the ring and his stony silence outside of it. His shoulders slumped. When he was younger, he had seen his aggression purely as a strength. The fact that the other club members feared to fight him had been a mark of pride--a display of his tenacity and seriousness of purpose, his manhood itself. Now his whispered nickname of 'Ogre Organa' chafed. These men avoided him in the ring and in Parliament.

  
That too would have to change, and the mountain of things he must do felt insurmountable. There must be another way to work through his bouts of melancholy and rage.

  
A memory of Hux leapt to his mind, unbidden. 'A true gentlemen finds more...appealing ways to express his vitality,' he had told Ben once, with an oily smile that he longed to claw from Hux's face. 'Think of it as charity, Lord Organa. Why, some of the ladies of Covent Garden are so poor they haven't a stitch to wear.' Some whiskered dignitary had guffawed uproariously at that. His lack of participation in such supposedly gentlemanly pursuits had long been the butt of many jokes, often the very reason he was sent stomping after a punching bag to abuse.

  
He had done such a thing exactly once. When he reached the age of majority, his father insisted they celebrate his birthday by paying for his son's supposed ushering into manhood.

  
Suffice to say, it had gone poorly.

  
Ben shook his head. Today was especially bad if he was just out of his boxing gloves and already thinking like this. His valet fussed over his cravat. "Please do hold still, My Lord," he insisted. "I must say, I'm not sure what's come over you lately, but I relish the opportunity to finally display my talents. It's been so long since you've been about town, I daresay I hope I haven't lost my touch."

  
Ben sucked his teeth as a warning that his patience was thinning. The valet's movements quickened and his chatter mercifully ceased.

  
There was little traffic on the journey to his uncle's London apartments. The butler had taken his hat and ushered him into the front parlor, where Luke grumbled and tapped his cane irritably.

  
"The Lady is getting ready," he explained. "Truly, I told her to waste time since I've gathered that its expected for women to do such a thing."

  
"Ridiculous," Ben groused as he sat down. "If everyone else is expected to be punctual, there's no good reason ladies shouldn't be as well." Mostly, he hated that this meant he would be alone with his uncle for minutes at a time.

  
Luke leveled his nephew with a glare. "It is my duty to impart upon her what is expected. Your good opinion hardly factors into my decisions."

  
"Clearly," Ben answered through gritted teeth. At this point, the two hated each other as a matter of principal. Ben knew him well enough to know that if anyone else offered that same opinion, his uncle would have likely agreed.

  
"As for your good opinion," Luke began, "What exactly, are your intentions with my charge?"

  
Ben nearly choked. "You can't be serious." His uncle only gave him a hard stare. Ben swallowed the urge to leap across the coffee table and strangle him. "Are you not aware that this was my mother's idea, not my own? I assure you, I am here under duress."  
Luke harumphed and eyed the bouquet that still sat in the parlor. Ben could have sworn that it had been more full of nasturtiums when the florist had presented it. Had she actually eaten them? "Then I cannot see why you would bother going to the trouble of procuring a bouquet for a lady you supposedly aren't interested in."

  
"It is simply what one does." Ben's voice rose to an unseemly volume. His fingers gripped the scrollwork of the chaise lounge. "Wasn't one of your criticisms of me that I act less gentlemanly than I ought? I would think you would be overjoyed at my supposed reformation." His uncle stared back, stone-faced. "My mother asked me to show Lady Jakku about town. I've done so to the very letter of what is expected of me--I've brought her to Hyde Park, I'm bringing her to the theater, and a gentleman sends a lady flowers in recompense for her company."

  
"You've certainly never bothered with that before."

  
"Well what would you have me do then?" Ben barked. "Not listen to mother? Wall myself up in my estate? It's tempting, I grant you."

  
"You haven't listened to my sister in years."

  
Ben breathed deeply before hiking his nose in the air. "Well, perhaps I have my own goals that align with hers. I don't see how that is necessarily your concern."

  
Luke was silent at that, but only for a moment. "I simply find it...suspicious."

  
Ben looked away from him. He didn't want Rey to come upon them arguing. "As little as you think of me, I didn't think it went as far as defiling innocents. I think such an accusation says more about yourself than anything else."

  
"Defiling? I never went that far, Benjamin," Luke replied, infuriatingly calm as usual. "But most young men see nothing wrong with a surreptitious kiss, a little canoodling, a bit of heavy petting. And I will have you know now that I will allow no such thing, and certainly not from you."

  
Ben's mouth dropped open. His head slowly lowered into his hands, where his nails gripped hard at his scalp. "I am not having this conversation with you right now. This is not happening. Lady Jakku is going to come back at any moment and this conversation will have never occurred." His limbs shook from the force of containing his rage.

  
"Really, do calm down, Benjamin." Luke's composure was infuriating. "You can't think that just because I'm an old bachelor that I don't know what happens in the corners of ballrooms and gardens. But that ends here." He punctuated his point with an upraised finger. "I will have none of that--what do you young things say today, slap and tickle? Yes, none of that with my charge."

  
"Stop. Talking. Now." Really, Ben had grappled with the possibility of exile before. He had that eventuality all planned out once. And it would be worth it, so worth it, to see the expression on his uncle's face when he ran a sword through his belly. All that and gallivanting across the continent, why, it was hardly a punishment. Didn't his uncle even keep a collection of historical weapons hanging in his study? He was practically asking for it. Ben just had to run down the hallway, grab one off the wall...

  
"Is everything all right in here?" Rey asked, opening the door hesitantly. "I heard shouting."

  
"Fine! Everything is fine," Ben replied too quickly. "Shall we be off then? Wouldn't want to be late." He was up in seconds, sweeping Rey away by the elbow and out towards the front door.

  
She startled and gripped his hand to keep from stumbling. He tamped down his chagrin at his emotions causing him to act unseemly yet again, but given the situation, it had been about to get a lot worse than Lady Jakku losing her balance.

  
"I'm sorry if I've made us so late," she offered, looking up at him with wide eyes. She genuinely thought his behavior was her fault, he realized. He swallowed. Ben also realized at that moment that she hadn't put her gloves on yet and he now held her bare arm in his grip. "It's just that Vivi is really so talented with the hot tongs and I couldn't help but find out what she could do. I don't think my hair's ever looked so lovely."

  
It did look nice, he realized. Her chestnut hair had been drawn up in three spools of curls that framed the innocent embarrassment in her eyes.

  
"Rey, what have I told you about becoming too familiar with the help? Society won't have it," Luke admonished wearily, slowly raising to his full height with the help of his cane.

  
She gave a petulant roll of the eyes. "Ah dinnae see why," she muttered lowly, "If some uncle Ah didne know hadnae died, Ah might as well be her."

  
Really, did his uncle just berate him for his charge's honor, then ignore that he grabbed her by her bare skin? Did she not even realize? Did she care? Was he going mad? He took his hand away as surreptitiously as he could. "Be that at it may, it is expected," he managed in response. "Shall we be off, then?" He suddenly wanted this evening to be over with as quickly as possible.

  
She looked at him strangely. Oh no, now he'd done it. "You can understand me?" she whispered.

  
He blinked. "Of course."

  
She looked away shyly. "It's just, I've been on these outings with His Royal Highness, and when I get upset or..." she paused. "When I talk like that, he's the only one who can understand what I'm saying."

  
Luke smiled with a sparkle in his eyes. "A friend of the family from our war days is from there. Ben here learned Scots dandling from the knee of the biggest, hairiest Scot you've ever seen."

  
Ben scowled. His uncle was in rare form this evening. "If we're done telling stories from my nursery days, could we be going?"

  
"Of course, Benjamin," Luke said, the twinkle in his eye doing nothing to reassure his nephew. He patted Ben on the shoulder in a way that looked fatherly, but was truly a bit too hard. "After all, we have plenty of time to talk about it in the carriage."  
Rey giggled, actually looking enthused by the prospect. Ben didn't know how he felt about that at all.

* * *

 

"Ye dinnae even hae any servants! Th' queen made ye git some whin ah git 'ere! Sae ah dinnae see howfur ye hae any room tae criticize."

  
Thankfully for Ben, Lady Jakku seemed to be only marginally better at keeping his uncle company. His uncle's needling had soon returned to tutoring his charge, who had long grew tired of his criticism.

  
"Being that as it may, I'm not the one trying to get married," Luke replied as he opened the carriage door. "Remember, we're about to be in public."

  
"Wha said a'm wantin' tae git merried?" Rey hissed. "That's a' a'body ever talks aboot! Mairriage, mairriage, mairriage." She took Luke's offered hand and stomped out the carriage.

  
"You coffers and tenants say you do, as I've said many times, but this is a discussion for another time," Luke replied, his composure calm.

  
Rey huffed. Ben felt strange, not being the storm in the room. It gave him a small sense of satisfaction that his uncle irritated her almost as much as he did to him. "Perhaps you should not put so much pressure on the Lady, dear Uncle. She has only just entered society. That is enough for any Lady to bear at once."

  
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said, taking Ben by the arm defensively. She gave an arrogant flip of her curls to Luke. "Your nephew understands that ladies have delicate constitutions and shouldn't worry our pretty little heads over such weighty matters." Lady Jakku had become an actress for the milling public outside the theater, many had disembarked only to gawk at the other arrivals. "I've never been to this theater before--why don't you distract me by showing me about, Your Grace? Why, if I consider any more of your uncle's burdensome matters, I very well may swoon."

  
"O-of course." Ben's head reeled. Had they just given the public impression that they may actually enjoy each other's company in any capacity? Did he do something right, socially, for once? Lady Jakku had carried the act surely, but that didn't change the fact that the plan might actually work. He could feel his uncle's suspicious eyes boring into his back as they left.

  
Lady Jakku practically led him into the theater herself, her skirts rising indelicately with her furious movements. He pulled at their linked arms, quelling her into slowing. Ben worried momentarily about what he'd say, how he'd show someone about who had never been to the opera house he'd seen since childhood, but her expression upon entering changed that. Rey was entranced. Her eyes jumped excitedly from collonade to collanade, taking in the marble and the huge swaths of red velvet with childlike wonder. Chandeliers sparkled in her amber eyes. Even with the opulent ballrooms and mansions she'd entered in the past few weeks, this enormous theater was clearly the most wonderous thing she'd ever seen.

  
He hated having to break her from it. "We have to keep moving," he said, bending down to whisper in her ear. Her hairwash smelled like earthy rosemary and sage, he realized. Most ladies insisted on flowers. She turned those luminous eyes towards him and for a moment, something in his chest contracted at the thought that he was the one that made her look so mesmerized. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, now marred with disappointment. "Oh. My apologies." She averted her eyes, studiously keeping them from indulging in the wonder she had found only moments earlier.

  
"You don't have to stop looking completely," he insisted, still bowed to speak only to her. It was bad enough society would hack away at everything that made her wild and uninhibited, much less for him to assist. "Come, if we go somewhere private, you can look as much as you wish."

  
Her face brightened. People watched them whisper with interest. Even if it wasn't at all according to their plan, he felt the sudden need to bring her to Snoke's box and hide her away from prying eyes.

  
There, she could look out as much as she liked and no one would be there to pick her apart. As soon as they arrived, her hands were at the railing and her head tilted heavenward. Eventually her head swung down to look at the gathering crowd in the seats, as stately as a goddess looking down from Olympus. They stood there in silence like that, her head looking this way and that, for an endless moment before she finally turned to him again and gave him a sheepish grin. "Again, I apologize. You must be bored to tears."

  
He gave a small shrug. "I've been here since I was a boy, so I've long been accustomed to the sight." He thought for a moment. "I suppose I had forgotten its beauty."

  
She looked away and worried at her lip. Quiet stretched between them. Her hands moved back and forth from her arms to each other, as if not knowing what to do with them. "I was thinking..." she started, "I thought about...before, had hoped that if you hadn't been able to understand me, that you wouldn't have known specifically what I said to you back then...at the ball."

  
He tamped down the sudden urge to chuckle. "Even if I didn't understand Scots, being shouted at from across a ballroom leaves little to being misunderstood."

  
"It was a silly thought, I know." She turned to look him in the eye. Her words grew hushed."But if you knew what I said, then you can tell me what you thought about it."

  
Ben was at a loss. "You can't truly want me to respond to that."

  
He could see Rey's spine straightening, gathering strength in her lungs. "Even if the method of delivery was...uncharitable, that doesn't change the fact that I have a point."

  
He drew his hand through his dark hair, eyes darting anywhere but at her. Was he really supposed to do this now? And just when he thought the plan was going well. "First of all, I am not truly wedded to the policy--I will admit it certainly isn't ideal..."  
She quirked a brow, face impassive. "Really? I was led to believe you were absolutely instrumental in the Corn Laws' continued existence. That doesn't suggest apathy to me."

  
"Politics is...complicated. Sometimes you have to uphold certain practices you may find detestable so you achieve an even more important goal."

  
"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are those goals, then? I must admit, I struggle to think of something more important than starvation of the populace."

  
"It's...." Ben grimaced and his voice grew hushed. "Lady Jakku, you may not be aware of it, but even now you are affected by the protection of English industry. Has my uncle truly not explained exactly why you need to get married?"

  
She blinked, curious but still wary. Ben sighed and continued. "Like many landowning gentry, your rent is not sufficient to make needed upkeep to the very property that sustains you. Your tenants require repairs, new irrigation...countless improvements which the food it produces cannot pay for any longer. Even now, with protection on British products, the system is barely sustainable. Many gentry are in the exact same position as you."

  
She tilted her head and was silent for a moment. "I will admit, this is new information I had not yet considered." There was only a moment for him to think he had earned a reprieve. "However, when His Royal Highness made me aware of my finances, I asked him if it was enough to feed and clothe me. He assured me that it was. I can't say I care much about anything else."

  
"But you have no dowry, no--"

  
"I have more than I could have ever dreamed. And I'd give up all these fripperies if it meant someone like me could eat."

  
Hot shame crept up his neck. He sputtered and struggled for justification. "But some of those repairs--if you don't have proper irrigation, you won't have anything at all."

  
"I'll tighten my belt. I'll sell the silverware. I'll patch and mend. I've done it before for less. Can you say that it can't be done?"

  
"But you'd have to live like..." He couldn't bear to finish.

  
She shrugged. "You may know your way around Parliament, Lord Organa. But I know poverty. As long as I have a full belly, I'll do what needs to be done. I've made do with less."

  
He was speechless--the only thought that came to his mind were 'You shouldn't have to.' If nearly anyone else questioned him so, he'd be enraged, but all he could do in the face of her stoic and unyielding compassion was feel humbled. "Perhaps you are correct about the Corn Laws, Lady Jakku," he conceded, "But would it truly be so terrible to marry and have money for all of it? Do you truly intend to live as a spinster?"

  
Rey shook her head. "I...no, I...suppose I would like to marry, but--" Her cheeks pinkened.

  
Ben was surprised to feel his breath catch.

  
"I shan't marry just for money. I would rather be alone than in a miserable union."

  
The barest of smiles crept up his lips. "You're more principled than many daughters of society."

  
She crossed her arms. "So I've gathered. But I simply couldn't put up with someone detestable only because he had a lot of money. Life would be a misery."

  
Ben's lips tightened. He couldn't be sure she wasn't describing him. "Perhaps these outings will serve a more noble purpose. You will learn what to expect from a gentlemen of your social class and not be taken advantage of by some bounder in the future."  
Rey opened her mouth, but seemed to struggle with the words.

  
The curtain drew back on the box, his uncle's familiar cane holding it aside. "There you are," he said as he hobbled in. "Took me an age to find out where we'd be sitting, Benjamin." He sat besides Rey. "Lady Jakku, I know this has all been orchestrated by my sister and you surely trust her judgment and her son, but you shouldn't walk off without your chaperone. People will talk."

  
"Wasn't that the point?" she asked.

  
"Not talk like that."

  
Rey narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly do they think could be happening? In a theater box right above the heads of hundreds of people?"

  
"Never underestimate the lascivious imagination of the gentry--they largely have nothing to do all day but speculate," Luke said wearily. "I'm not here to wag my finger for my own enjoyment, I assure you--my sister will have my head if anything else happens to you."

  
The lights were dimming. Spectators hurried to their seats in all their finery.

  
"I just realized--you haven't even told us what play you've chosen, Benjamin."

  
He had spent an inordinate amount of time picking a play to suit Lady Jakku. A scathing social commentary by Wilde may be as confusing as the social events she was forced to attend. A Shaw piece about politics may be the same. "It's the latest by Dion Boucicault." It apparently featured spirits and ruined castles--a straightforward plot, and Gothics were supposedly popular with the fairer sex.

  
The orchestra struck up the lilting opening. Even this small thing made Rey startle with excitement.

  
He paid enough attention to the story to understand it, but this type of play wasn't usually to his taste. There was no such thing as ghosts or vampires or ghouls that stalked the night. Horror only lay in the hearts of men like him.

  
Lady Jakku's reactions were far more interesting a spectacle. She nearly leaped out of her chair when the bridge collapsed in the storm--trapping the intrepid heroes to seek refuge in the castle. The suspicious resident of the crumbling ruin--the titular phantom, no doubt--has her transfixed. An actress dies of fright and the phantom is shot in retaliation, and Rey very nearly grabs Ben by the arm in her shock. Her hand covers her pink lips when the creature is resurrected by the power of the moon.  
When the lights return for intermission, it was like a spell has been broken. Rey sat there for a moment, blinking away her awe.

  
Pride filled his chest. "How do you find the play?"

  
"It's...wonderful." She smiled. He felt the tiny corners of his mouth turn up in response.

  
"It reminds me of that book you keep reading," said Uncle Luke, thoroughly ruining the moment. "Withering Something Or Other."

  
"It's Wuthering Heights," Rey replies with a roll of the eyes. "And I've only just begun reading it. It...reminds me of home, all the scenery."

  
"Still, you should be improving your mind with something a bit more substantial."

  
Ben ignores him outright. "I had read it years ago, but can scarcely remember much. I do remember its long descriptions of the moors."

  
"I'm used to being outside much more often," she replies shyly, "His Royal Highness assures me that I will have as much time in the countryside as I wish once the season is over. It...helps put me at ease."

  
The sight immediately flashed in his mind's eye, of Rey happily cavorting about the moors of Chandrila. There would be no one to judge or curtail her. She could be exactly as she was, as wild and uninhibited as a woodnymph.

  
Wait, what was he thinking? The only way he could show her Chandrila would be if he hosted a house party, which he'd never done. Who would he even invite besides her?

  
As if on cue, the curtain parted to reveal the red hair of Armitage Hux. "Ah, Organa. The Prime Minister had said you had borrowed his box for the evening, old boy, and I simply had to see the beauty that brought you out of social isolation." His smile said there was something about this situation Hux enjoyed too much. "But I see you intend to hide her away and keep her all to yourself. Are you not even going to introduce us?"

  
Ben stifled a growl. "Lady Jakku, may I introduce you to Lord Hux, Baron of Arkanis."

  
Rey looked to Luke as if for approval, then offered her hand. Hux took it, examining her all the while, and bringing it to his lips with an infuriating languidness. "How enchanting. Why, you're the lady who called Organa out at the ball, aren't you? But now that I've seen her, I can see why he couldn't stay mad at such a pretty face such as yours. I apologize for your accompaniment having hidden you away--he's never been much for socializing."

  
"Um, thank you." Rey's smile was strained. Ben's glare was murderous.

  
"Ah, Your Highness, I trust retirement is finding you well," Hux continued. Luke made a nondescript noise in his throat. "I'd love to stay, but there's simply too many people to see and intermission is only so long."

  
After she was sure he had fully disappeared behind the curtain, Rey asked, "Is that your...friend?"

  
"We are acquainted, but I wouldn't describe him as such, no."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Because I detest him."

  
Luke stifled a chuckle. "Now, my Lady..."

  
"Yes, yes, I know, I'm not supposed to say such things." She crossed her arms irritably.

  
"Not until you've co-erced some lovesick country squire into marriage, no. Once your future is secure, you can generally do what you wish--especially if you never intend to leave the countryside."

  
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "So all of this would be over as soon as I do? I won't have to mind every word I say? I could leave and never come back?"

  
Ben desperately tried to steer the conversation to safer territory. "I'm not sure many would object to Lady Jakku's assessment. In truth, I can't think of anyone who calls Baron Hux a true friend. It's like trying to feel at ease beside a venomous snake."

  
"And yet you chose to ally yourself with him of your own accord," Luke observed.

  
Ben pursed his lips. "Let's not argue about this again. It would be most inconsiderate of Lady Jakku."

  
Thankfully for Ben, the play's second act was beginning. The lights dimmed and the orchestra struck up a tune. Soon Lady Jakku was again embroiled in the drama of the play, her mouth falling open at the marriage ceremony and resulting duel. It is over all too soon.

  
She thanks Ben profusely all the way home, but there is still a sinking dread in the pit of his stomach. After he shows them home, he sinks into the squabs of his carriage seat, oddly bereft. It's over. Shouldn't he be relieved? He struggles to think of the next meeting of the House of Lords, knowing he should prepare, but he can do nothing to stir up any of his usual conviction.

  
Upon arriving home, his butler produces a letter on a silver tray. He opens it to find an invitation to his mother's dinner party. At the bottom is her handwriting: "Lady Jakku will be there--I think the evening will do your reputation some good. Love, Mum."

  
Everyone there will be his mother's people, who he loathes. He knows he's going anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben didn't attend the next meeting of Parliament. He couldn't concentrate. Even just reading the papers was a trial, let alone trying to write a speech.

  
"My Lord, the Prime Minister is here to see you." The butler was obviously nervous, yet again.

  
"Arty, what did I tell you--"

  
Snoke came barreling into the room. "I knew it. I knew you weren't sick. You haven't missed a day since you took up your Seat in Parliament."

  
Ben's nails cut into his palms. Was he the only one who paid attention to courtesy anymore? Did everyone just come barging through other people's houses now? "I am feeling unwell." It wasn't entirely a lie. "Besides, there's no important policies being considered. You don't need me there."

  
Snoke gave him a withering glace. "You have no idea how true that is. However, that is besides the point, Organa." He folded his hands against his back and circled Ben like a predator. "One of your few virtues is your dependability. If I can't trust you to even attend, what good are you to me? You've never been the sort of dilettante to faint over the sniffles."

  
Ben pursed his lips and took a deep breath. "It's one time in countless years. It won't happen again--you surely know that."

  
Snoke silently considered him, eyes narrowed. "I suppose I've seen this before. I forget--you are still a very young man."

  
"What does that have to do with anyt--"

  
"Your distraction won't do. And you have yet to do your duty to your country, so we can kill two birds with one stone, as it were. An advantageous match is going to do wonders for your career. Allerton has a widowed daughter-in-law I'm sure he'd appreciate being taken off his hands, and Hux's sister is on her second Season. I could easily introduce you to either."

  
In his shock, Ben looked his mentor directly in his pockmarked face. "I have no need to be married. I'm not sure how a little illness led you to believe this, but I assure you, marriage would not bring me back to health any quicker." Besides, he had no hope of a happy union. Anyone lady who came close enough to learn his past or his beliefs or his hobbies would surely draw away in revulsion.

  
"You are going to have to accept your duty eventually, just as you have come to accept all others. And you are useless to me so distracted--"

  
"I will not marry!" Ben yelled. "And this is ridiculous! I am never been some lovelorn swain, and I am absolutely baffled by your insistence that I am overcome by some sort of lechery."

  
Snoke's eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. His pupil never spoke to him that way. "I see." His voice was too quiet. "Well then. I will leave you to your recovery, Lord Organa." He quickly stalked out of the room.

  
"Wait, I..." But Ben could think of nothing to say. He stood still in shock as he heard the Prime Minister's boots make their way through his house, butler uttering deferences all the way, until he slammed the door.

  
Ben would have to beat his mind into exhaustion. He would normally go to the club to practice, but he feared even the smallest social interaction when he was like this. A fencing dummy sat in his unused back parlor for just such occasions. He found his saber, threw off his coat, and attacked it with ferocious intensity. Advance. Retreat. Crossover. Lunge. Advance. Lunge. When even practiced motions weren't enough, his swings became wild. Distantly, there was the blunt slice of wooden baseboard. Advance. Lunge.

  
He couldn't read the papers, he couldn't write, he couldn't do anything with the mind that had previously served him so well. Rey's words crept into him no matter how hard he tried. He prided himself on his extensive reading and research, yet so much of what she said was unfamiliar and shocking. Ben had, for the first time, realized now that no journalists, politicians, or other authorities in society had ever starved--that there was an entire world in London he was separated from. They all talked about the poor as one talked about grain or sheep or steel.

  
He had thought himself a wild thing, too indecent for polite society. He was nothing compared to her.

  
A part of him hated himself for this sudden weakness. His famous discipline was faltering. If he didn't at least have that, then what did he have?

  
There is some knowledge he is desperately keeping from breaking forth to the front of his mind. He wants to know why he is suddenly this way, but at the same time, he doesn't. He senses only that it has the power to destroy everything. There isn't much for him to miss, not truly, but there is peace and safety in his routine. If he doesn't have that, then what is left?

  
So he chose to work his mind and body into an exhausted peace and stay in limbo. He fought himself sore, until his limbs ached and his throat hurt from screaming. Her struggled until all the fight finally left him and he was rendered drained and pliant.  
Finally, he was ready for polite society.

* * *

 

 

Rey had insisted that they arrive on time, but Luke resisted. "This 'fashionably late' idea is such nonsense, and why would I be late when I want to go so badly?"

  
"You seem...unusually enthused about a social engagement," Luke observed.

  
"This isn't like a ball. It's just a small party, with people who are friends with the Queen. And I quite like the Queen." She was practically pulling the old man forward along with her towards the party. It wasn't Buckingham Palace--that was much too stately and conspicuous--but an old set of apartments the Prince Consort had used in his bachelor days that had long passed out of the public memory. "I can truly talk to people there--it won't be an endless parade of titles. Besides, Her Highness said a Captain will be there, and could you imagine what stories he could tell? And a citizen of the West Indies', and..."

  
The Queen is there to greet them at the door, like any proper hostess. "I'm ever so glad to see you here, Rey," she says, eyes warm. She takes the young girl's hands in hers.

  
"I could never think of dismissing your kindness towards me." Her eyes turn downcast. "I can't believe you'd wait upon a simple thing like me."

  
"It's what any hostess should do," Leia insisted. "Besides, if I listened to what I should or shouldn't do as Queen, I wouldn't be having this dinner party. Or any fun at all. Now, let me show you to the parlor."

  
She can hear the room before she sees it. It's full of raucous laughter. A handsome man in a double-breasted dress uniform is gesturing wildly with his hands. "So she says, 'Good! Now I can have the maid to myself once in a while!" Sniggers and cackles bubble up in response.

  
In the middle of this circle of clapping, laughing, happy guests sits Benjamin Organa with his arms crossed.

  
"Luke! How good to see you!" The Captain immediately rises to clap her chaperone on the back. "What lovely young innocent have you brought to our den of iniquity?"

  
"Poe, come now, she hasn't even met anyone yet--you're going to scare her off," said a man with a dark-complexion and ever-suffering smile. He munched on a canape held in his hand.

  
"Oh, is this Lady Jakku?" A raven-haired beauty in a pink dress has Rey's hands in hers in moments. "I'm so very, very excited to meet you! The Queen has told me so much about you. But oh, where are my manners, I'm Lady Tico, but you can call me Rose. I know we're going to be the absolute best of friends! Ooooh, do you have a post box? We could write to each other!"

  
"Y-yes," Rey answered, her smile hesitant but hopeful. "His Highness says it will make people talk, but..."

  
"What, Luke?" She turned to the older gentleman, who was still conversing with the Captain. "When did he become such a fuddy-duddy?"

  
"When my sister put me in charge of guarding the honor of a young debutante, unfortunately," he called back, a twinkle in his eye that Rey rarely sees. "Now if you young things will excuse me, I need to sit down. These old bones aren't what they used to be."

  
"Oh, but Lady Jakku, can I call you Rey? You have to tell me absolutely everything. What was it like, when they discovered you in Scotland? I bet coming into society was just like a fairy tale."

  
"Rose, she might not want to talk about it. You know how I hate talking about Barbados in public, after all."

  
Ben scoffed. "It can't be so bad as all that," he grumbled. "Slavery was abolished in the colonies years ago."

  
The room fell into an immediate and awkward silence. The Captain turned a hard glare at Ben.

  
"They...they burned down my parents' farm," the man managed, eyes downcast. "They wouldn't let any of us buy property even if we managed to save up the money for it, so we cultivated land that was unused. Then they burned it."

  
Rey didn't know it was possible for Ben to grow even paler than he already was. "I...was unaware," he sputtered. "My apologies, Sir."

  
The man's smile was strained. "Most people don't know about it. It was a long time ago." He looked at the tense faces around the room. "I'm here now though, no need to focus on that and ruin a good party. I'm Finn, by the way--it's nice to meet you, Lady Jakku."

  
"It's Rey--you can all call me Rey," she said, smiling. "I hate using a title anyway, and I certainly won't be the only person in the room being called that."

  
"Since we're making introductions," said the Captain, sidling up to Rey and taking her hand in his. "I'm Captain Poe Dameron, and you can of course call me Poe." His brown eyes looked into hers as he bent down and kissed her on the bare skin where her glove ended.

  
Rey felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "I'm very pleased to meet you. All of you. Really, I wish I had met you all sooner." She turned away to regard the room, only to feel the hot stare of Benjamin Organa fixed squarely on her. His whole body was pulled taut in on itself like a bowstring.

  
Rose, completely unawares, was nearly bouncing in her seat from excitement. "This is going to be the most exciting evening!" she said with a happy little clap of her hands. "Rey, you really must tell us all about what you've observed since you've entered society. It's so rare to get the perspective of someone who didn't grow up in it."

  
Before she could think of what to say, or determine what was the matter with Benjamin Organa, the Queen returned with the next guest. Shouts of "Amilyn!" immediately followed.

  
"Since that's everyone," Leia broke through their excitement,"Shall we make our way to the dining room?" The guests moved to follow her like a gaggle of geese.

  
Rey stiffened. This was the part her and Luke had spent hours practicing for. She'd know where to sit by the place-card by her name, she reminded herself, and she'd be sat near someone she had little standing with so they wouldn't risk monopolizing conversation. That was important to her, since it meant she wouldn't be joined at the hip to her chaperone the entire evening. She should not hold the knife and fork above the hand, nor put her hands on the tablecloth. Sit upright, put the napkin on the lap, eat slowly, don't cut bread with a knife, take your gloves off at the table, don't pour sauce directly over the meal, and spit out pits and gristle into a napkin.

  
She was running over all the rules in her head when she reached the table and found her card. Her new friends filled in around it, still talking excitedly. Rey looked over at the seat besides her. The card read 'Benjamin Organa.'

  
He pulled out her chair before she could reign in her racing thoughts. "Oh, thank you," she said, swallowing. He only gave her a nod before grimly pushing her in.

  
Servants rushed in with an enormous tureen on a serving cart. A clear gravy soup was being ladled into her bowl before she realized she was in trouble--Four forks, three knives, three plates, two spoons, and four glasses. Which one had Luke said was the soup spoon? She had only a half a chance of getting it wrong, but there was no chance of her guessing every single one throughout the meal.

  
"It's the big one," Ben whispered, low enough that no one else could hear. "The little one is for sorbet."

  
Rey felt blood rush to her cheeks. Had she been that obvious?

  
"I'm sorry, you just looked...at a loss." He looked away. "My apologies."

  
"No...no, thank you, that was very...considerate." She offered him a hesitant smile. The corners of his mouth rose ever so slightly in response.

  
Her movements in this were stiff, unpracticed. Rey was used to scarfing down whatever she could get her hands on--sometimes with her sole set of cutlery, sometimes with her hands. Not eating every morsel would be the hardest part, as Luke had told her they'd have at least five courses, perhaps ten if his sister was feeling exuberant. She might not have been able to cope if Luke hadn't assured her over and over again that the servants always made use of the uneaten food on the sly. Watching a maid take away her half-full bowl made her bite her lip in anguish.

  
No one seems to notice her inner turmoil. Captain Poe is already making some joke that Leia is chuckling at. A platter of fried soles with tarragon sauce is placed in front of her.

  
"The second fork. The second knife is the fish knife," Ben whispered.

  
Rey took up the flatware gratefully. "Um...I never did ask you what you thought of the play...last time we met."

  
Ben was silent for a moment. "I enjoyed myself."

  
Rey smiled, then immediately lost the expression when something occurred to her. "That does not answer the question."

  
"I suppose it does not, no." He considered, chewing slowly. "Such subject matter isn't usually to my taste."

  
Her brows furrowed. "Then why did you pick that play?"

  
Ben's eyes slid to the other side of the table. "I tend to prefer works that are social critiques, but I thought perhaps with you being so new to society, such fare wouldn't be enjoyable. It already seems...overwhelming enough."

  
Rey struggled to think of something to say to that. "That was thoughtful. And I did enjoy it." She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. "However, I would eventually like to see for myself whether I enjoy such plays. Perhaps the conduct I find so absurd and frustrating will be exactly what they are critiquing."

  
His smile returned, bigger this time. "Perhaps."

  
Their fish was replaced with flaky chicken croquets in a piquant sauce, with broccoli and mashed potatoes. "First fork, first knife," Ben offered dutifully.

  
Rey looked at the dish forlornly, wondering how she was going to do anything more but peck at it.

  
Finn groaned. "You warned me not to eat much, Poe, but I'm still too full to go on. I don't see how you lot do all this." Poe chuckled. Rey felt heartened to not to be the only one so accustomed to extravagance for once.

  
"It's only for dinner parties," said Rose, fork mid-way to her mouth. "Believe me, if we did this for every meal--no matter how I pace myself--I'd probably weight twenty stone."

  
"To be fair, Finn, you did fill up on canapes," Poe said.

  
"But they were so good!"

  
Leia smiled indulgently. "It's more important to me that you all enjoy yourselves. You know I'm not one to stand on ceremony," she said with a wave of her hand.

  
"I'm glad you decided to do this, Leia--it's the perfect opportunity for my charge to practice without risk." Luke said. "Although I must say, she is doing a lot better than I expected from our practice sessions." Rey took a big swig of Madeira and tried not to look guiltily at Ben.

  
Her mostly-full plate was soon replaced by a citrus sorbet to cleanse the palate. Thankfully, due to a process of elimination, she was finally able to conclude the correct cutlery without help.

  
Next came a saddle of mutton with sea kale and steamed vegetables. Luke carved since he was the man of highest rank. Rey ate a bite, maybe two.

  
Then came a simple salad with a light dressing. Rey just stared at it morosely and sipped her Madeira.

  
Rose squealed when the pudding course was brought out. "Raspberry cream is my absolute favorite!" The girl suddenly dug in with renewed gusto. "There's a bakery I absolutely must take you to, Rey. They have the absolute best cheesecake in all of London."

  
"What, and you haven't brought me?" Finn said, feigning hurt.

  
"You're a boy and thus I'd need a chaperone, and that's no fun. It'll be nice to finally have a lady for a friend again."

  
"I'm shocked your parents don't insist on a chaperone at all times, what with how you like to get into trouble," Poe said with a rakish smile. Rose simply glared.

  
When it was clear no one could stuff any more food into their belly, Leia rose from the table. "Let us retire to the parlor. There will be bourbon and coffee for anyone who wants some." A chorus of groans answers her. Rey manages to stand up and waddle away. Luke had warned Rey that it was tradition for the men to separate for cigars and alcohol, but this was a custom Leia flouted in particular.

  
"Leia, I've never heard a better Schubert on the pianoforte than yours," Amilyn Holdo says, "Would you play for us? It's really been too long since I've heard it."

  
"If ladies and gentlemen are together and there's music, then shouldn't there be dancing?" asked Captain Poe. "Amilyn, your dance card was too full at our last ball, so I'll hear no excuses now."

  
"Dancing? At a little dinner party?" Rose laughed. "I've never heard of such a thing."

  
"Do you dance, Rey?" asked Finn. "I didn't have much opportunity to learn before, but I've been practicing with Rose."

  
"I've...um..." Her few lessons with Luke had gone atrociously. But she was so unused to eating so much and then sitting idle, Rey very well may fall asleep where she sat. "I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid. If...you'll excuse me, I think I might talk a walk about the garden." She wobbled nervously as she rose.

  
"If I may accompany you." Ben was at his feet in moments. His mouth opened and closed silently, eyes darting from her to the floor. "Lady Jakku."

  
"Certainly." She took his offered arm. Finn and Rose were not distracted by the dancing and piano playing, but eyeing them with curiosity.

  
She didn't want any accompaniment, but how does one go about refusing such politely? She would have to ask Luke when they were on the carriage ride home. Rey wanted to run until all the stupor left her limbs and do all the inelegant things she was used to doing. She had planned to just narrowly avoid ruining her dress and then return as if nothing had happened. Rey never used to hold still for this long.

  
Not only that, but she was running out of things to say to the mercurial and quiet Benjamin Organa. Simple subjects seem to change his expression and mood in ways she could neither guess not account for.

  
His voice brought her back to the present moment, and she realized they had been walking in silence. "In the drawing room before dinner, you said that everyone could call you Rey." His voice faltered. Had he been mulling over this since then? "Does that include me?" He turned to look her directly in the eye. "I would not so dishonor you to do so in public," he added quickly, "People would talk, think it unseemly. But when we are alone, or..."

  
"I...suppose so. If you wish to." Rey felt like she was answering an entirely different question, one he wasn't actually asking.

  
"Then you would call me Ben?" She could see the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

  
"If you wish me to." She found it hard to look at him, but knew, deep down, that it was necessary. "We have had our differences, but you have been kind to me."

  
He placed his hand over hers, where she gripped his forearm. "Rey." He turned it over in his mouth, hushed, as if he savored it. His brown eyes darkened with some brewing storm. Looking at him then, with his pale skin against his raven hair, was like staring into an eclipse.

  
"I know you are innocent to the ways of society," he said, voice still low and hushed and form too close for propriety. "But you must be wary with your sentiments. Men like Dameron will only do you a disservice."

  
She nearly giggled in his face. "What, the Captain?" His face fell. "He's just sociable."

  
There was venom in his voice now. "He was flirting shamelessly with Lady Tico before you arrived. He chases every skirt he sees."

  
"It's just harmless flirtation. What, are you saying he's done worse than that?"

  
He is silent for a moment. "A gentlemen would not dishonor you so." He looks away. "I would not dishonor you so."

  
She can feel her cheeks grow hot. "Ben, I...it is kind of you to be so concerned for me, really, but..."

  
The name brings some madness to his eyes, and he has her by the shoulders. "You have no idea of the darkness hiding in the hearts of men, of all men." His body shakes with suppression. Ben's voice is a seething whisper. "Society will destroy you. It'll destroy you, then laugh at everything that makes you beautiful." His face is too close to hers, closer than anyone has ever been. "You need to be protected. My uncle can't be everywhere, nor can my mother."

  
"Ben..." she manages, hushed. "Ben, what are you saying?"

  
His hand brushes her jawline. "I may be a monster, but I know what I am. If I have to protect you from myself, then I will. I'm capable of that, at least."

  
His mouth is hot on hers, like a brand. She shudders with surprise, both at him and her own response, before she is supported in his arms. He is all painful shivering sweetness. The wet sound of his lips against hers makes something curl and twist low in her belly.

  
Slowly, with barely suppressed feral wanting, he parts her lips with his tongue. His mouth is plush and warm. Everything outside of the two of them is forgotten.

  
Suddenly, with great difficulty, he breaks away from her. His breath is warm and ragged against her neck. "Run away with me. To Gretna Green."

  
"What?" she breathes.

  
"You're not old enough to marry without parental approval, not in England anyway, but you can in Scotland. My uncle and mother would never allow it."

  
"Wait, Ben, I...don't even have any parents," she stumbles through it, these being the only facts she can process. "And...what are you saying...your mother loves you."

  
He huffs. "There's so much you don't understand." His dark hair is wild as he shakes his head. "We can go straight from Scotland to Chandrila. You don't have to ever come back to London, not if you don't want to. You can spend the rest of your days roaming the moors of my estate and never face society again. My fortune will be yours--you'll never have to worry about fixing irrigation or going hungry. I'll give you whatever you wish."

  
"Y-you must be joking," she said, voice quivering. "You're playing a cruel jest. Y-you'd have no reason to marry me."

  
He snatches her hand lightning-quick like a viper. "I have been often doubted, but it has never been said I lack sincerity." His voice is husky with menace. He presses her hand to his chest. "Do you not feel the race of my pulse, Rey? The beat of my heart? Can you not see what you have done to me? Do you think I could fabricate this madness?" Wetness pools under his eyes. His voice is weak.

  
"Ben," she squeaks out.

  
"Is that not enough?" His other hand is tearing open the buttons of his coat and waistcoat. "Do you still not believe?" He presses her palm directly over the naked skin of his chest. She can feel his sweat and his heat and the ragged drumming of his heart. "Can you still deny my honesty?" he seethes.

"No..." she answers, eyes wide. Rey trembles against him.

  
Ben stares at her for a moment, drinking in her expression. "I have frightened you." His voice is small. He pulls her hand away. "I apologize. I..." Ben purses his lips and looks away. "I should return you to the party."

  
He ushers her quickly back, now the stiff model of propriety. She can feel the shame radiating from his every pore. Ben can't even bear to look at her.

  
When they return to the house, he doesn't follow her into the room. "I regret that I have urgent business to attend to." Finn stares openly at the torn buttons of his waistcoat. Ben's eyes will not leave the floor. "I bid you all good night." He turns on his heel and leaves the house with long strides.

  
Rey, too full of confusing emotion, bursts into tears.

  
Leia's playing abruptly ends. She turns to her guests, sighing wearily. "Well, it's not the first of my house parties he's ruined."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: "So...you promised yourself you were going to write fanfic on your first day off, then do your original stuff on the second day off."
> 
> Me: "Yep."
> 
> Brain: "But you just did THIS. The whole time."
> 
> Me: "Yeeeeeeep."
> 
> Brain: "And you've just done a read-over of it. You realize your tenses change, like....a lot."
> 
> Me: "It's either I wait a week so it's removed enough to really actually proof it, right when my new shitty boss is running us ragged, or I post it now. So. It's being posted now. Deal. Or I'll murder you with alcohol."
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments! I'm so used to being in tiny fandoms, so I forgot how nice it is to get that many. They are, uh, motivating. I need to respond to more of them, I know, but I figured you'd prefer if this was out quicker, yeah? Feel free to talk to me or @ me or whatever at JeneeLestrange on Tumblr, just be warned that since I cleared my cookies Tumblr won't let me get log in on my computer, so I'm only on the blasted phone app :( So if I ignore you, don't take it personal, the thing just sucks


	5. Chapter 5

 

Snoke did get his wish--Ben did attend the next session of the House of Lords. Though the effort he had put in to secure his protege's presence must feel fairly useless now.

The other members were used to seeing him in all manner of emotion, so he must truly look frightful if their expressions were anything to go by. The only sleep he'd had in the last few days was fitful. His servants were in the midst of replacing his training dummy and the plate glass window he had thrown it through. Even his butler--having served Ben since he was a boy--dressed him today as if he was made of glass.

Allerton had the floor. Ben hears snatches of it--something about horse and sparrow economics--but all he can think about is the way Rey said his name, and the fear in her eyes when he pressed her hand to his chest. Even so, he can't help but fill himself with longing by replaying every moment they touched, skin to skin.

He's thankfully tired enough that he considers it with dispassionate self-loathing now, like the way one picks at a wound. Ben was a fool to let his emotions get the better of him. He knows he could never have a happy marriage. He should throw himself into some political union just to kill the temptation to try, to hope. Hope was the most dangerous temptation of all.

But the sight of Dameron flirting with her--of suddenly realizing this man, _any_ man could marry her and have her will subsumed to theirs--made him lose his senses. She was too wild to ever deserve to be so managed. He could watch her gambol across the moors, ask her opinion about events from the papers, or spoil her with delights that any debutante would find mundane. Even if she never came to care for him, even if he had to hide her from the horrors that gripped him, at least then he would be saving something precious.

Ben looked around the room. He isn't sure if he can say that about anything else.

A gavel sounds. Men rise from their seats. Has it been that long already? It felt like it should have been adjourned an eternity ago.

"Horse and sparrow economics, Allerton? Really?" said Voren Na'al, a little too loudly. "You should read that Dickens' fellow--his latest is popular for a reason. You could do with knowing more about the people you rule over."

Snoke scoffed. "Are you saying we should be learning from pickpockets and thieves? Preposterous!"

"A member of Parliament like Allerton knows a bit more about the people of England than some scribbler," Hux said with a chuckle. "Go back to your histories, Na'al."

It was an ordinary exchange that Ben would have normally ignored. But now, rudderless, he seized on this with single-minded desperation. Ben grabbed his hat and coat and stalked out of the building in long strides.

He doesn't really expect it to work. But he doesn't know what else to do.

There's a bookstore only a block or two from Parliament. He buys two copies of Dickens' latest novel. The rest of the afternoon is spent alternating between reading and scrawling erratically at his desk.

He had to concoct some lie when he finally went to the post office--something about having a sister with a secret post office box she was using to talk to a disgraceful paramour. The bribe was inconsequential, but Ben hated lying. Not just because he was bad at it, but it was a common vice that he loathed. He may be a monster, but he was honest about what he was.

The irony of the lie itself made it feel all the worse.

Either his bribe must have been big enough to ignore everything else, or his desperation shone through and lent authenticity to the lie, but he was given the number to her post office box. After delivering over his parcel, he returned home to read, wallow in agony, and wait.

* * *

 

Everyone tried their best to distract Rey from the horrible incident at the dinner party. Rose and Finn took turns visiting, when Rose wasn't writing her letters. Leia invited her for tea. Everyone was better at it than Luke, who only lectured and asked her questions she didn't want to answer. "Are you certain that's all he did? I swear, if my nephew did anything more than _speak_ to you, I'll run him through."

Speaking, of course, was not all he did. But Rey couldn't bear to share the memory of her hand in his, pressed to his beating heart. Not just because of their reaction. Not just because she was ashamed of how she ran the memory over and over again in her mind, examining it this way and that like a magpie with a shiny bauble. She was afraid to even put the moment to words. If she did, then the storm of feelings she still hadn't untangled would be real.

She knew they was aware of the lie. The open buttons of Ben's jacket made that obvious. Leia never mentioned it at their visit over tea, ever-astute in her quiet way. She had just sighed and said, "I'm sorry for Benjamin, my dear. I never imagined he could be any worse with the fairer sex than his father."

Rey had murmured something noncommittal.

Leia looked back with solemnity and set her teacup down. "Did my brother ever tell you what happened to Benjamin's father, the prince consort?"

Rey blinked. "I was younger then, and news from London was hard to come by there, but I remember hearing when the prince died of an illness."

"That's only partially what happened." She could see Leia's frame stiffen. Rey looked at her with interest. "My brother Luke was Ben's professor at Eton, and was instrumental in having him expelled. Shortly after, my husband and Ben got into a...disagreement over it while they were in their cups." Leia was looking away from her companion, seeing something far off in the distance of her memory. "Ben challenged his father to a duel. Han--my husband--he tried to talk sense into him, but Ben insisted in fighting till first blood. After the duel, Han's wound grew septic. He died a week later." She grew silent, still not looking away from that place in the distance only she could see.

"I've....never heard about any of this."

"Good. Then at least the rumors haven't reached the populace." Leia finally took a steadying sip of tea. "It took a lot of doing on my part to bury it. Ben was nearly brought up on charges and exiled to the continent."

"What?" Rey asked. The story was too much, too fast for her to process. "He killed your husband. Why did you protect him?"

Leia finally looked her in the face."Would you have me lose both my husband and my son?" Her eyes were haunted. "I've lost many things over the years. I can only endure so much heartbreak." There was silence in the parlor for a moment. Leia looked away again. "It wouldn't be so terrible if I thought he was happy, where he is now, who he's with. But I know my son." She took another sip of tea. "All I really hoped to accomplish was to remind him that there are people...not like the ones he surrounds himself with. People who care about things other than power and lineage--that perhaps he could find people more like-minded and genuine. People he genuinely enjoys the company of. I didn't care anymore whether I approved of them." She sighed. "I never imagined I could have been this successful...or that it could have made things worse."

"I'm sorry," Rey said reflexively. Guilt stirred in her, seeing someone who had been so kind to her--for no real reason or ulterior motive--further hurt because of something she was entangled in.

"You have no reason to be. Ben is a grown man who makes his own decisions. If he would have only confided in me, or listened, he could have managed a decent proposal--or at least not have frightened you so. But Ben was never one to listen."

Rey furrowed her brow. She was silent for a moment before admitting, "He's always listened to me."

Leia looked at her suddenly, blinking. "Really?" was all she could manage. Rey felt the weight of Leia's examination, as if she could pick apart some secret to her son's heart. "Do tell."

Rey shyly bit her lip. "Well, I...I haven't been exactly shy about our disagreements on politics. I think I may have at least given him reason to doubt his position, just a bit at least. And...I'll admit I was being purposefully shrewish when I complained about the bouquet he sent me, but he changed it. He's been surprisingly courteous when I'm most ill-tempered." Rey crumbled her biscuit into bits with her fingers. "I don't see why we can't go on as before, with a bit of discussion, of course. If a man proposes, do I truly have to avoid him the rest of my life? It just seems ridiculous to me."

Leia studied her quietly, shrewdly, and sipped her tea.

Rey had ran the afternoon over and over again in her mind. The look in Leia's eyes kept resurfacing. Rey had tried to lose herself in books, in walks about the garden. But the more she read, the more the image of the feral and furious Heathcliff roamed the moors with long dark locks that tumbled like a furious sea, and Ben's troubled eyes.

Poe had sent her a lovely bouquet of pink roses. It sat in the parlor next to Ben's last gift. Luke had wanted Ben's bouquet thrown out, but even if Rey had eaten all of the nasturtiums, she insisted it be kept beside the roses in the parlor.

Captain Dameron came calling the next day. Luke had welcomed him with back-patting and jovial greetings. "I know Rose has been looking after Rey, but I thought it would do well to pay her a visit."

"Ah, how good of you." Luke ushered him towards the parlor, where Rey had been brought to greet their guest. "I'd love to stay and chat, you two, but the Philosophical Society is having a conference in a few days and my presentation still needs a lot of work."

Rey narrowed her eyes. Since when did the old man willingly go to any social function? "I thought you were supposed to be my chaperone."

Luke waved her off. "Poe's a friend of the family--he'd sooner cut off his own hand than do anything to make Leia distrust him. You kids will be fine without me."

Rey said nothing, just glared at Luke's retreating form--no doubt shirking his duties to read Plato in his study for the millionth time.

"Did you like the roses?" Poe said, flashing a winning smile.

Rey had forgot for a moment that she was, in a sense, a host with duties."Oh! Yes, very much. Thank you." Her head kept spinning--Rose had told her about the Captain's reputation with the ladies, yet Luke allowed her to be alone with him. A privilege she was sure he'd never allow with his own nephew. But the Captain also hadn't torn away his frock coat and touched her hand to his heart, skin to skin. Or kissed her. Or...

A new thought occurred to her--was Luke hoping for Poe's characteristic flirtation? Did the old man hope to not only be rid of his responsibility to his charge, but further link beloved Poe to the family?

The Captain cleared his throat. "You seem...out of sorts since the dinner party. I'm sorry to see you having such a poor introduction to society." His smile returned. "I can assure you that not all gentlemen are so coarse."

Her mind was still whirring. "This would not be such a problem if I were not expected to go out and procure a husband. I await the end of the season, when I can return to the country."

"Not a city girl then, I take it."

Rey had nothing to say to this bit of small talk, already too far gone on a dangerous line of thought. "Captain..."

"Please, call me Poe--we all agreed to be friends at dinner, didn't we?"

"Poe..." she began, hesitant. "If you are indeed a friend of the family, could I ask you something in confidence?"

"I would never do anything to earn your mistrust." His eyes are too warm. "Your secrets are safe with me."

Rey purses her lips and considers how to explain. "I am having some difficulty...coming to terms with a wife's place in marriage and the peculiarities of men." Her fingers pick at the lace of her dress. She can feel her cheeks growing hot.

Poe chuckled confidently. "Rey, I can assure you, a true gentlemen will treat you with the utmost gentility and kindness. There is nothing to fear if you have found the right man."

She looks away to hide her annoyance. "That isn't what I'm referring to. Let us suppose, someday, you have a wife. The two of you come to a disagreement regarding a decision. Do you let her do as she pleases, or do you impose your will onto her?"

"Only a barbarian ever forces a woman to do anything," he begins, his charming smile returning, "But a husband and wife must be in accord. And I have never had a problem in being convincing."

She can see he wouldn't--not with that devil-may-care smile and those smoldering eyes. Plenty of women would give up any conviction for a sigh from his lips.

But that isn't what she wants.

* * *

 

After Poe's visit, she takes a footman with her to the post office. Even with their visits, Rose does indeed still write her letters. They mostly seem to be written in snatches when Rose pretends to be in her room reading some illustrious tome and not the Gothic novels she hides under her bed. Rey is always embarrassed to reply--her penmanship is nothing compared to Rose's looping script, nor her vocabulary, but Rose makes no mention of it. Rey still spends too much time consulting dictionaries and hoping she can find the correct spelling.

When the postman hands her the mail, a large extra parcel sits on top. Rey thinks perhaps Finn mustered up the courage to write--he shares her same reticence with the written word, having both learned little of it as children. Or perhaps Poe was more serious with his advances than she realized.

But no. It's him.

How did he get her post office box? It's bigger than just a letter--what did he send her? She resists the urge to shred the packaging right here in the post office, and calls the footman to follow her out as quickly as she can without arousing attention. As it is, the footman looks at her askance.

The drive back to the apartments in excruciating. Has he disavowed everything, claimed some temporary bout of madness? Does he continue to press his suit? Rey can't bring herself to untangle what she wants.

She rushes to her room and slams the door behind her. Rose's letter is thrown on her desk to be dealt with later before quickly tearing open Ben's package. It's a book--"Oliver Twist" by Charles Dickens--and a letter. She has it torn open with her hands before she finally remembers she's supposed to be using a letter-opener.

 

> _My Dear Rey,_
> 
> _I hope I have not so fallen in your esteem that I may continue to use your Christian name. However, if it be so, or if you no longer wish to see me again, I shall understand. I have affronted you monstrously, and there is no appropriate defense. I cannot express enough regret at having so frightened you._
> 
> _The purpose of this letter is not to bring you any further discomfort, but I must disabuse you of any notion that you are unsuitable, or that I have been superficial in my admiration for you._
> 
> _Before we met, I would have given little thought to the plight of my fellow man. There are few to insist upon it. I am a grown man and a scholar--given the best of books and education--and only because of you have I learned what has been hidden from me. Though this may be damning with faint praise, no one in society is your equal in insight or bravery._
> 
> _I have heard the work of Mr. Dickens lends further understanding to this. Before, I would have never thought to read it. Today, I have procured a copy for myself and for you, as a small token of apology._
> 
> _I cannot bear the thought of being parted from your honesty. The world around me seems frivolous and base in comparison. I cannot trust anyone else to advise me with your same candor._
> 
> _We may not always agree on every issue, ultimately. However, your perspective is too rare to be ignored. I promise to listen as long as you allow me._
> 
> _To think that I have cut you off from me by my own hand, it torments me. Please, I beg you, if you have borne the least bit of affection for me, then end my suffering. Allow me to return to you or send me away, and though it will pain me, I will bother you no more._
> 
> _Yours Sincerely,_
> 
> _Benjamin Organa_

 

Rey let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She read it once over, then again. Had everything he said been true? It seemed impossible--no man would admit to offering some uneducated debutante so much.

She needed to see him. If she could look him in the eyes and ask, she would know. If she saw that same mad earnestness again, maybe then she could be sure.

But how? Luke would never allow it. Leia would surely help her, but would Bejamin allow that? How do high society ladies organize secret meetings with chaperones and all these rules about propriety?

She reads the letter over, then again, then a third time. Rey sits at her desk and begins to write out a letter, then scratches it out in frustration. She begins again, opening up her dictionary for consultation, and puts forth her plan.

* * *

 

Ben had thought any letter from Rey, let alone one planning to meet, would have been a godsend. Instead, he had hurriedly scratched out a letter in answer--telling her how foolish and dangerous such an idea was--then realized she likely wouldn't return to the post office anyway. He spent the rest of the day agonizing over how to fix this. Did he dare go to their apartments? His uncle would surely turn him out on the street at the sight of him. If he sent a servant there with his written response--bypassing the post office entirely--his uncle would surely throw the missive into the grate to warm his study. As it was, he wouldn't have even received her letter so quickly if he hadn't sent his footman to the post office every hour, on the hour, to quell the surging restlessness that gripped him. What would have happened if he hadn't? He couldn't dare to contemplate it.

He spent the entire day driving himself mad--trying to think of ways to stop this--only to conclude he had no choice but to go through with Rey's preposterous arrangement. The carriage stopped. He bit his lip and read her missive again:

 

> _Dear Benjamin,_
> 
> _If you meant everything you said at your mother's dinner party, then meet me at midnight at the cemetery down the street from His Highness's London apartments. I'm sure you know the name of it better than I._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Rey_

There was a blot of ink near her name. What was she thinking? Just because she was used to gallivanting across the countryside didn't mean she was safe enough to traipse about London alone in the middle of the night. The fear and waiting and impotence of not being able to stop her from risking her life had made him crush several curios against the wall of his study. If anything happened to her, he'd be blamed. If anything happened to her...

Ben threw himself out of the carriage with all haste. Its hinges creaked in response. "Rey!" Waking the neighbors would be the least of his problems if something happened to her. "Rey!"

"Stop yelling," called a voice.

Once he saw her, he ran. Her white wrap and nightgown billowed out behind her in the chill night air, making her look like a spectral vision. If it wasn't for its brightness amongst the one dim streetlight, he may not have seen her at all. The streets had an eerie stillness. His heart beat heavy against his ribs.

Rey's hair was tumbling down her back. The sight would have delighted him if only he hadn't spent the last couple of hours driving himself insane with the conviction that she'd be dead in a ditch by now. Gravestones crowded together around them. Bodies were buried on top of bodies so Londoners could rest knowing their relatives were in hallowed ground.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he seethed, voice somewhere between a hiss and a whisper. "Someone could have followed you. It isn't safe!"

Rey blinked, honestly startled. "A'm used tae traivelin alone. Nothing's ever happened. 'n' ah brought me chib." She lifted the small blade in her hand. It was small and scratched, looking like it had gutted many a game.

"This isn't the country! There are bands of thieves and murderers in these streets, Rey!"

"Keep yer voice doon! Ye'r aff tae git us caught."She huffed. "Ah wis trying tae be safe. Th' pairk is blocks awa'."

A chuckle, half-terror, escaped him at that. "Blazes, Rey, nowhere outside is safe in London at night, not for a young lady! You absolutely cannot do this again, do you understand?"

"Fine, fine, Ah ken. Noo urr ye juist aff tae be crabbit a' nicht?" She crossed her arms. "Ah kin juist gang hame if ye'r aff tae keep lecturin'..."

He breathed deep and gathered himself. "No, no, please--I....would you please join me in the carriage? We can talk there, where we aren't likely to be seen. Or set upon."

Rey sighed and steadied herself. "Weel, a'.....I am cold. However, the carriage should stay here. This shouldn't take long."

"But of course," he said, ushering her forward. If the way she crowded onto his arm was any indication, she was indeed chilled. He hated the way the sight made his chest constrict. He hated how weak and vulnerable she made him with just a tiny action. "Would you like my coat?"

"This should only be a short conversation. I just...have questions I need to ask of you and I...it wouldn't do to ask you in a letter."

"Of course," he murmured, though he truly didn't understand at all. He helped raise her into the cab. His driver, wisely, gave no reaction to anything.

He felt the loss of her on his arm as she climbed in. Rey grabbed her own arms, shoulders hunched.

Ben pursed his lips, took off his coat, and threw it over her shoulders.

"I told you, it shouldn't be but a momen--"

"Then you can be warm for those intervening moments. Now, what did you have to ask me?" His voice grew hushed. "I was serious about what I said."

She burrowed further into the coat and looked up, hesitant. "Everything?"

"Yes."

"You...you said you'd give me whatever I wished, but...most men think women want just trifling things. Jewelry and dresses."

He smiled and his eyes grew warm. "I know you well enough to know those don't tempt you."

"No, they don't." She looked up at him. "I want the freedoms to make my own decisions. To do as I wish. To--"

"Done."

"Wait, I'm not finished."

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand."Unless you plan on carrying out scandalous affairs with the footmen or my political rivals, then I will gainsay you nothing. You may come and go as you wish." She couldn't do any worse to his reputation than he'd done already.

"I can flout all of high society's rules? Spend money as I see fit? Buy stock or property or--"

He shrugged, utterly composed. "As long as we're not in danger of being bankrupted, which I doubt, then yes. I'll add my signature to whatever you wish."

His signature? She hadn't thought she'd need it. Of course, she never thought she'd own significant property, much less knew how to actually go about it. She considered him for a moment before asking her next question. "You are a man of...intense emotions, wouldn't you agree?"

He raised a brow. "That assessment is more than fair," he admitted.

Rey took a deep breath. "Have you ever...hit a woman before?"

Ben bit his lip. "No. I do have some standards." His eyes trailed the carriage floor, a stab of self-loathing hitting him in the gut. Such a question should be unconscionable. But she deserved to ask. Because of who he was.

"Good." She seemed satisfied. "Women who feel unduly deceived and harassed can come to desperate measures. And rat poison is cheap and readily available."

Ben's eyes widened. "Is that a threat?" A snort escaped him despite himself. "Are you threatening me?"

"A gentleman shan't need to worry." It was incongruous, how imperious she held herself in his oversized coat. "But if you need time to reconsider whether your offer still stands, I understand your reticence."

He chuckled. When was the last time he truly laughed with anyone else? "I assure you, I am well aware of the whispers surrounding the deaths of brutish husbands and their very merry widows. You're simply the only woman I can imagine who would be honest about it."

She blinked, surprised. "You aren't put off?"

"As long as you promise not to poison me for anything less than cruelty towards you. I can't say with conviction that I shall be an easy or agreeable husband, but I will do my best to...do right by you."

Rey looked at him. "You're awfully calm about the possibility."

Ben had thought of doing it to himself, once upon a time. The face of his father--shot through with betrayal--came to his mind's eye. "I would expect anyone brave enough to consider the suite of 'Ogre Organa' to come with some uncommon stipulations," he said with no small amount of shame.

Rey regarded him with quiet solemnity. Then, she took a deep breath and brought her hands together at her chest. "I...I still can't believe it, but...I packed a valise just in case." She rose to her feet. "I'll be just a moment. Stay here."

"Wait, what?" He grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I told you, to get my things."

Ben's grip tightened and a shaking overtook his limbs as the realization slowly dawned. "You can't be serious..." he whispered.

"I...." It was hard to see in the dim light, but her cheeks were blossoming pink. "It seems so reckless, but all marriage in the ton is for a woman, isn't it? How can I say I truly know anyone after a few dances and parlor games?" She looked him in the eye then. "You listened to me when you had no reason to. You needed nothing from me. I don't think I could say that about most gentlemen."

He was at his feet in moments. Ben was always ungainly in a carriage, too large and looming over her, but he didn't care. He took her hands in his. "Rey." He whispered it like a prayer.

"You have no reason to offer me so much. No other gentleman would. I could be a wanton. A harridan." She looked up at him shyly, eyes sparkling in the dim gaslight poking through the windows. "I'll do it. If I must gamble either way, I might as well gamble on you."

She gasped for only a moment--shock at being shoved against the wall of the carriage--before he covered her open mouth with his. The softness of her mouth, the heat of her skin, the scent of her hair--it drove him past the point of madness. His large hands clutched greedily at her thin shift. She shivered and collapsed into his arms.

Their teeth clicked together in his frantic urging to get closer. It wasn't enough. He was all barbarism and driving force and snarling need. He had never truly felt this before, not like this--this need to consume, the wanton drive to plunder. He wanted to crush her small body into him until nothing could separate them, could ever tear them apart again. His tongue thrust into her mouth with animalistic greed.

He broke away for a moment--a moment only to breathe hot against her slender neck--when he heard her breathy sigh. Only then did he realize he had been grinding his hips against hers. He was treating Rey--a Lady gracious enough to accept his suit--like a common doxy. "Rey, I..." He looked her in the eyes and stopped, breathless. She was slumped bonelessly against his shoulder, lips swollen with kisses, eyes half-lidded. Her gaze was full of innocent eagerness. "I..." He struggled to corral his racing mind. A terrible thought occurred to him. He swallowed, throat bobbing with unease. "I should warn you...I am the heir apparent." he breathed. "The one expectation I cannot save you from is the responsibility to produce an heir. I know you grew up without a mother, who might have...explained what happens between a man and wife. I would not have you go into a marriage blind." The thought both terrified and thrilled him, of Rey's small frame beneath him crying out with a virgin's velvet pain.

Rey bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "I grew up in the country, so I believe I gathered how, uh, baby animals were born. It's...like when a bull gets on top of a cow, yes?"

Ben didn't think he could possibly be any more disgusted with his urges than he was right now. "That is the basic gist of it." He closed his eyes and kissed her head with all the tenderness he could muster. "I understand if you're frightened," he whispered, caressing her cheek, "I can't say I'm a gentle or undemanding man, but if you should wish to leave off your...wifely duties after an heir and a spare have been produced, I shall understand." In this moment, swept up in this insanity, heart racing against his ribcage, he wasn't truly sure he could. He wasn't sure if, with one taste of her plush softness, he wouldn't become like a war-haunted soldier with their sickly-sweet opium. He wasn't sure if, bereft of her affections, he wouldn't throw himself into a ravine. But he was Benjamin Organa--he held to his word, and one bit of happiness was better than none.

She offered him a shy, sweet smile. Ben suddenly understood stories where kings kept fair maidens in tall towers, far away and protected from all the evils of the world. "I suppose I should get my things. They might catch us if we dawdle."

"Be quick," he breathed, kissing her knuckles. "Please have pity on me and be quick." He held her gaze as he helped her down, Rey always looking over her shoulder to snatch back his eyes until she finally disappeared behind the door.

Minutes passed. In that time, Ben convinced himself that this was all a joke, a vengeance against him for his abominable behavior at the dinner party, and that his uncle would burst into his carriage in any moment to run him through. He was almost surprised when Rey threw a giant valise at him and jumped in after. "Well?" she said, looking at him expectantly. She was still in a thin shift and his oversized overcoat.

Him. Her husband-to-be. God help him.

Ben pounded on the top of the carriage. "Back home. Tell Arty to pack my bags," he ordered to his driver, "Then we're riding through the night to Gretna Green."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this Chapter took so long, ya'll. It was a difficult one, I'm probably still not happy with it ultimately, but IT NEEDED TO BE DONE. And I'm currently going back to school for the next *checks calendar* six months? Or so? Now, I think, I'm about two months in. And I'm still working. I'M SORRY AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.  
> Next chapter: It's a looooooooooooooooong and tiring ride to Gretna Green. Will Luke or Snoke go after them? Will Ben manage to be in a carriage with Rey for hours and hours and hours while still controlling himself?


End file.
